


Capturing the Devil

by fanetjuh



Series: Jonsa Week [77]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, F/M, Jack the Ripper Murders, Sexual Assault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-18 13:25:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19335418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanetjuh/pseuds/fanetjuh
Summary: Jon Snow and his wife Sansa Stark are famous serial killers, but they're still on the loose and free, going after those who had it coming and only have themselves to blame. People like Ramsay Bolton.





	Capturing the Devil

**Author's Note:**

> Can be read as a standalone, but might work better if you also read the other three stories set in this universe:
> 
> Stalking Jon the Ripper  
> Hunting Prince Jon  
> Escaping from Jon Snow

Some say that every serial killer wants to be caught at some point. Some say that the chase and all the officials slowly catching up with them is part of the thrill. Some say that without the constant treat of being caught dangling above their heads, serial killers wouldn’t feel the same satisfaction they did when they’ve managed to outsmart everyone once more.

In some cases those people were absolutely and totally wrong.

Jon had seen the change in her ever since she had killed Joffrey Baratheon in cold blood. Her back was straighter when she walked through the streets of London and the smile on her face was brighter when she greeted strangers and friends and foes whenever she passed them. She was no longer a little girl determined to prove society that she was capable of far more than they were willing to give her credits for. She was no longer a victim and she was no longer afraid of what lurked in the dark.

He had started killing because he had truly believed that science could bring back the mother he had lost. He had sought out women who wouldn’t be missed and lived horrible lives anyway and had freed them from their misery to take their organs. He had wanted to be caught, deep down knowing that what he did was wrong and that someone had to stop him.

But for her killing was like freeing herself from all the shackles she had worn for way too long. For the first time ever she was in control of her life. And finally she could judge and execute the monsters who could have done whatever they wanted with whomever they wanted for way too long already.

And even though he still needed to kill to satisfy his own hunger and needs, he also found satisfaction in watching her wield her weapons and murder men and boys who deserved it. He had already loved her long before death had buried its claws in her back, but with every kill and every dark night that passed he loved her more and more. 

Her bright red hair seemed even redder when she was covered in the blood of her enemies and victims. Her bright blue eyes glimmered whenever she drank in the life of her victim fading away. And the blush on her cheeks and pearls of sweat covering her skin made it almost impossible for him not to touch her. 

“Do you know why I am here tonight?” She wore a spotless white dress barely reaching her knees and she straddled the monster beneath her who had no idea what was really coming for him.

Ramsay Bolton still wore that stupid wide grin on his face and he stretched out his hand to touch her cheeks. “I always knew that one day you would change your mind and return to me begging for more.” He pushed himself up and his tongue licked her neck. His hands grabbed her shoulders and his thumbs bruised her pale, but perfect, skin. “They all come back eventually, you know?”

Sansa raised her eyebrows and Jon pressed himself against the wall to hide in the comfortable shadows. She didn’t need his help. She was not a damsel in distress needing rescuing from her husband. She was a femme fatale and the men she played with only realised they were nothing but useless and unneeded toys before it was already too late. 

“I assume it is because there is a certain pleasure in pain.” Ramsay grabbed her hair and pulled her closer towards him. “When I twisted your hard nipples between my fingers you screamed, but even you couldn't tell if it was because it hurt or because you enjoyed it so much.” To prove his point he grabbed her breast and squeezed it firmly. “Shall I do it again, Sansa Snow-Stark?” He spoke softly and yet Jon could still hear him loud and clear. “It can be our little secret. No need for your husband to ever find out.”

Jon tensed all his muscles. He clenched his jaw and his fists and yet he still didn’t interfere. He knew what was coming for Ramsay Bolton. He knew what fate was waiting for the man who thought he was invincible and immortal. If Ramsay Bolton wouldn’t have been one of the many monsters scarring his beautiful bride, Jon even would have felt sorry for him. Now the moment couldn’t come soon enough, but he knew that Sansa liked to take her time.

Sansa shook her head. Her ponytail danced on top of her head and her hands tenderly wandered down Ramsay’s arms. “You are wearing too many clothes still, my lord.” She smiled when she tightened the rope, attached to the bed, around his wrist. “And Jon has taught me a few tricks I want to share with you too.” Quickly she attached his other wrist to the bedframe too. “I’m sure you can appreciate them.”

It was only when she stood up and tied his ankles to the bed too that Ramsay Bolton seemed to understand that something was off, that something was entirely wrong. The grin on his face faded and panic clouded his eyes. “What are you doing, lady Sansa?” His voice sounded a few tones higher than usual and Sansa crossed her arms over her chest while she put a dirty cloth in his mouth. Ramsay Bolton was at her mercy now. But there wouldn’t be any mercy today. Not for him.

“Jon?” Sansa held out her hand. “My knife, please.” 

He stepped out of the comforting shadows and he saw Ramsay’s eyes widen when he placed the cold and sharp knife in Sansa’s hand. 

“Any wishes concerning what I shall remove first?” Sansa walked back to the bed and once more she straddled the now completely powerless Ramsay Bolton. “I propose we start with the clothes.” Carelessly she started cutting the fabric. The sharp tip of her knife pierced Ramsay’s skin more than once and drops of blood rolled over his skin and stained the sheets. 

“Oops…” Sansa smiled when eventually Ramsay Bolton lied entirely naked and bloodied under her. “I’m quite certain your servants have experience with bloodied sheets, right?” She cocked her head and then she looked over her shoulder.

Jon locked his glance with hers and he nodded. Even though he had killed to bring his mother back alive. And even though she killed to deal with the devils haunting her nightmares. In the end they killed for the exact same reason. To fill a void.

“Do you know what Jon likes for dinner most?” Sansa hissed between her teeth and then she curled her fingers around Ramsay’s dick. “Sausages.” She let the knife circle around the base. “And Theon told us about your secret recipe.” She cut deeper and for the first time ever tears rolled down Ramsay’s cheeks. “We however miss the key ingredient. But you are totally willing to help us with that, aren’t you?”

Ramsay shook his head, but nothing Ramsay did could change anything. 

Jon knew exactly what Sansa would do. He had listened to her dreaming about it for months now. And each time her revenge grew more cruel and violent. A good husband maybe would have stopped her, would have told her to go for the easy kill. But he was not a good husband. He hadn’t been ever since he had invited death to claim his soul and had awakened the monster longing for blood in his own body.

With her tongue between her slightly parted lips she wielded her knife and a few minutes later she dangled Ramsay’s dick above his own head. “Want a taste of your own meat, my Lord?” Her hand moved to the gag, but at the very last moment she pulled her hand back. “I am afraid there is already too little for both me and Jon. I don’t want to waste anything on you.” 

Jon chuckled and with his arms crossed he leaned against the wall. Sometimes there was a part of him feeling guilty about dragging her along with him, about bringing the darkness into her home and into her head and into her heart. But when he saw her like this that regret disappeared immediately. He felt the adrenaline rushing through his own veins when he watched her cut off Ramsay's nipples, one by one and agonisingly slow.

Then she moved on to Ramsay’s toes, to his fingers, to his ears and his lips. And all the while she kept talking to him. She reminded him of all the people he had killed, hurt or left scarred. She made him pay for every crime he had committed. And just when there was barely any life left in him because he had lost way too much blood and way too many body parts she pressed the cold knife to his throat. 

“I should actually leave you here to bleed out slowly.” Her voice was hoarse from all the talking. “Because you don’t deserve a quick death.” She put some more pressure on the knife and it was hard to say if the blood dripping down his neck was from a new wound or from an old one. “But I am not you, Ramsay Bolton.” All of a sudden she slashed his throat. “In the end, I do have mercy.”

For a moment she just sat there motionless, then Jon walked towards her and sat down behind her. While Sansa dropped the knife he pressed her warm and bloodied body to his chest and his lips kissed her hair. “Whoever thinks they need to be afraid of me, hasn’t met you yet.” He felt her leaning back and he embraced her even tighter. “I'm afraid we will also have to kill the staff and Miranda. After all, they do know that you have been here.”

“They are all yours, Jon.” Sansa closed her eyes and she wrapped an arm around his neck. “I am satisfied.” She smiled. “For now.”


End file.
